


LoveSong

by Adona



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adona/pseuds/Adona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake can be pretty oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LoveSong

Blake ran a hand through his tangled curls. Closing his eyes, he heaved an exasperated sigh. Was it always going to be like this? He'd just had an argument with Avon. Again. It seemed to Blake that, lately, all they did was argue. Avon challenged his every idea or suggestion. There had always been tension between the two of them, but, these last weeks, Blake felt that he could do nothing right in the eyes of the sullen computer tech.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and sat heavily upon the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling more tired than he could ever remember feeling. His arguments with Avon often left him drained, but this one, even more than usual. What's more, Blake didn't even really understand what it had been about.

It had been two days since they had returned from Albion. Avon had inexplicably risked his life to save that planet, and had succeeded with bare seconds to spare. Blake didn't understand why Avon had done it, and he knew better than to ask, but he was proud of him, nonetheless. He'd been a little hurt when Avon had shut him out by refusing to talk about Anna Grant, but he had finally managed to convince himself that it really was none of his business. He wouldn't admit that it still bothered him. 

This morning, he had found himself alone with Avon on the flight deck. He wanted to bridge the gap, somehow -- to let Avon know how grateful to him he was. He wanted to give him a pat on the back, to have a comfortable conversation with him. Blake was even hoping that the acknowledgment might ease the tension between them a bit.

Avon was sitting at his station, his head resting back against his flight chair. He was staring absently forward.

Blake approached, "Avon, about what happened on Albion..."

"Yes?" Avon's tone was guarded -- abrupt.

"I want to thank you for what you did." He tried to sound casual.

"I didn't do it for you," came the harsh reply.

"That's not what I meant." This was going badly already. "You took a big risk to help those people. I just wanted you to know that I was proud of you."

Avon spoke with biting sarcasm. "Well, that makes it all worthwhile. It seems I'm finally becoming the good little rebel you've always wanted."

Exasperation took over. "Damn it, Avon, why does everything have to be a confrontation? Can't you accept a simple 'thank you?'"

"Nothing with you is ever simple."

"I was only trying to tell you how I feel."

Avon stood. "And I suppose you expect me to reciprocate? Well, you might as well forget it, Blake. I will not be manipulated!" He stormed off the flight deck.

Blake was both hurt and confused. He re-played the conversation in his mind, and, still, it made no sense. Why did Avon resent him so? Sure, they'd always argued, but they had, at one time, been able to carry on a civil conversation -- they had even joked together on occasion. But not recently. As time had worn on it seemed to get worse and worse, until now Blake could almost provoke an argument simply by entering the room.

"Blake."

He looked up as Cally entered, a concerned expression on her face.

"What is wrong with Avon?" she asked.

"We had an argument," Blake responded wearily.

"What was it about this time?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. We just can't seem to communicate anymore."

For a moment, Cally was silent. Finally, she said, "Well, we have all been under a great deal of pressure recently. That is what I wanted to talk to you about. The psychological health of the entire crew is rapidly deteriorating. We need a rest, Blake -- a real holiday. It did not work out the last time we tried, and the situation is even worse now. If we do not get adequate rest soon, we will begin making mistakes. It is surprising that we haven't already."

Blake sighed. He couldn't argue with her -- he was certainly exhausted. Maybe a rest would help. "Yes, all right. I'll leave it up to you. Find us a quiet, unpopulated planet -- somewhere where we won't run into any trouble. I'll be in my quarters until we get there."

* * *

Cally had been right, they really had needed a holiday. The planet she'd found was on the edge of Federation space, and was a wilderness of forests and lakes. Their first day in the sun had been fun. The crew played and swam and joked together, and all felt more relaxed than they had in ages. Now, in the dark coolness of the evening, sitting around a campfire together, they allowed themselves the luxury of simply being friends, rather than comrades-in-arms. It was more enjoyable to Blake than he would have imagined. All of the others seemed to be enjoying it, too. Except, possibly, Avon. How could one tell, after all? He wouldn't allow something like the enjoyment of their company show on his countenance. He had come, however, rather than staying on the ship. That fact spoke volumes.

As Vila finished the song he was playing on a guitar he'd managed to "acquire" somewhere, Blake reached out. "Do you mind if I give it a go?" he asked. They all looked at him in mild surprise. Well, they didn't know all of his secrets, did they? Vila handed him the guitar, and Blake checked the tuning for a moment. He looked up at them, his eyes coming to rest upon Avon.

"This is an ancient song that I learned as a boy. My father said it was from the old calendar. I've always found it very moving."

He plucked a lovely tune for a moment, and then began to sing, his smooth baritone voice rising into the night sky with the smoke from the fire.

"Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed.  
Some say love, it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed.  
Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need.  
But I say love, it is a flower, and you its only seed.

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.  
It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes the chance.  
It's the one who won't be taken, who cannot seem to give.  
And the soul afraid of dying that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely, and the road has been too long,  
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong,  
Just remember, in the winter far beneath the bitter snows,  
Lies the seed that, with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose."

As the last strains died away, silence fell upon Blake's friends. After a moment, Cally raised a hand to wipe away a tear. Avon was staring into the fire, a typically unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he stood and walked slowly away into the darkness. Blake's eyes followed him until he could see him no longer. He sighed. He really wished he could read the man. The thought of following him crossed his mind, but he realized that would only bring on an argument. He dropped his eyes from the now empty darkness to the fire. Maybe the song hadn't been a good idea.

He held the guitar out to Vila, but Jenna spoke up. "Sing another one. Please." 

Blake looked from face to face. They all were looking at him expectantly. He thought a moment. "All right." He chose another and began to sing. It was another lovesong -- it seemed that all of the songs he knew were lovesongs. Funny, since he had had so little love in his life -- at least to the best of his perforated memory. He seemed to have no trouble remembering these old songs, though. They were something of a constant in his life -- something tangible from his childhood that he could actually grasp on to. Those few memories were precious to him. Choosing to share them with the others was a significant step. 

And Avon had walked away. It hurt.

It hurt rather more than it should have. 

Avon had the ability to hurt him more than anyone else did. He cursed himself for allowing the man to get to him yet again. Their relationship was so complicated. With some surprise, Blake realized that he had chosen that song especially for Avon. He was still trying to find some way to break through those barriers of his. Perhaps it had been too much. 

Blake declined to play a third song, and returned the guitar to Vila. He stood, contemplating the darkness in the direction Avon had gone. After a few moments, he sighed again, and walked into the night.

Within minutes he was cursing his foolishness at blundering off into the darkness without a torch. He might very well break his neck. He was about to turn back when he realized that Avon was in the same position. Using that small concern as an excuse, he continued on. 

He might have passed right by Avon in the darkness if the other man hadn't heard him, and called out his name.

"Blake," came the soft voice. "I'm over here."

Blake followed the voice until he could see Avon in the dim starlight. The tech was sitting on a large log, looking in another direction. As Blake approached, Avon challenged him, his voice sharper now. 

"Why did you follow me?"

"I was worried. It's dark. You didn't have a torch. I wanted to be sure you were all right," Blake lied.

"I'm fine, as you can see. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Avon's tone was flat, more guarded even than usual.

"I never doubted it," Blake replied. After a pause he asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

For several long moments, Avon didn't answer him. Finally, he said, "Suit yourself."

Blake took a seat on the log next to his friend. He gazed into the starry sky. They sat together in silence for some time, but it was not a comfortable silence. There was that tension between them that, while familiar, Blake had never really been able to explain. Avon was careful to distance himself from everyone. Why, Blake wondered, had Avon singled him out for this particular level of cold hostility? 

Should he say something? Should he ask him? It would undoubtedly bring a stinging reply that would shed no light on the issue. There was really no point. As he was clearly making Avon uncomfortable, perhaps it was best to simply return to the others and leave him here alone. 

He was just about to do so when, surprisingly, Avon spoke. "You're never going to quit, are you? You're never going to let it rest until I've bared my soul to you. Such as it is."

Blake was so taken aback that he didn't know how to respond. Was he really pushing that hard? 

Avon apparently interpreted Blake's silence as an affirmation. "Damn it, Blake. It's obvious that you know how I feel. Do you really have to hear the words?"

Blake swallowed down his surprise. What was this about? "I think perhaps I do," he answered softly.

Avon took a long, deep breath. His voice remained quiet, but it took on a bitter tone. "All right, I admit it. You've won. I will never leave you. I'll follow you until your damned Cause gets us all killed. I will even follow you into hell, if you like. I hope you're satisfied."

Blake was stunned. Before he could think to stop himself, he asked, "Why?"

Avon sharply expelled a breath. "It's just never enough, is it? You won't back off until you draw blood. Well, I am not ready to face blood just now." He stood and stalked off into the darkness once again.

This time, Blake knew he couldn't follow him. For what seemed like hours, he simply sat staring into the darkness, wondering just what the hell that conversation had been all about.

He thought back on the history of his mystifying relationship with the enigmatic computer tech. From the very beginning, he had received open resentment and hostility from the man. Blake had never quite figured out where it came from. Over time he had come to rely on Avon's skills, but even more on his cold logic, his ability to cut to the heart of the matter. Avon's wary suspicions had saved their lives on any number of occasions. 

Many times, Blake had expected Avon to leave -- or feared that he would. Indeed, Avon had actually tried to do so on at least one occasion. Yet, despite all of his grumbling refusals to be led -- about choosing to follow, for the time being -- he stayed, and he nearly always succumbed to Blake's wishes, in the end. And he resented the hell out of Blake for it. Blake found himself asking "why," as he had done many times prior to this night.

This night, however, there was an additional "why." Why had Avon suddenly, and resentfully, felt the need to declare his loyalty -- declare it to the death and beyond? What in the galaxy had provoked that? 

What had Avon said? "You're not going to let it rest until I've bared my soul to you." Let what rest? Blake hadn't been pressuring him about anything. They were on a vacation, for heaven's sake. Yet Avon had clearly felt pressured. "It's obvious that you know how I feel." That was precisely what Blake didn't know.

His head spun. Avon had succeeded in confusing him even more than usual. Coming to no answers, Blake moved from the log and headed back to the campsite. 

By the time he arrived, the fire had grown low, and the others seemed to be asleep. He reached his own bedroll, and flopped down, knowing that he would lie there sleepless for some time. There was a sound close by, and Vila's face appeared close to Blake's. 

"Is he all right?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"How can you tell?" Blake whispered an exasperated reply.

Vila huffed, shaking his head. "Well, the song was a bit much, Blake, even for you. You shouldn't have pushed him that hard."

"The song? Vila, what are you talking about?"

"If you wanted to push his buttons, you couldn't have found a better way."

"It's only a song." Blake's mind raced. "I'll admit that I might have been hoping he'd let his walls down just a little bit, but. . ."

"He hates having his emotions displayed like that, Blake. You shouldn't have done it in front of the rest of us. You probably shouldn't have done it at all."

Blake's confusion grew even deeper. "Vila, I don't see what harm there is in encouraging him to open up a little -- to allow himself to care for us, just a little bit. He's got to know that he can trust us by now."

Vila was silent for a moment. "Blake, you really don't know why Avon reacted the way he did, do you?"

"No. If you do, please tell me, because, quite frankly, I'm baffled."

Vila simply stared -- Blake honestly had no idea. At length, he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "You looked straight at him when you sang that song. You apparently weren't aware of it, but it seemed to him that you were exposing his deepest feelings. It seemed that way to me, too."

"What feelings? The song was about having the courage to be open -- to care. Why should my singing it to him affect him that way?"

"No, Blake." Vila stated. "It was a lovesong."   
He made his way back to his own bed.

Blake thought back over the words to the song. Yes, it was a lovesong. He had known that. He had looked at Avon, and sung him a lovesong. He thought about that. He thought about what Vila had said. He thought about what Avon had said. 

"He hates having his emotions displayed like that."

"You're not going to let it rest until I've bared my soul to you."

"It's obvious that you know how I feel."

Suddenly it was obvious. All of the pieces fell into place at once, and Blake was left shocked to the core. 

* * *

The eastern sky was beginning to gray with the hint of dawn when Avon finally returned. Blake heard him. He hadn't slept a wink, as his mind had raced with the implications of his recent discovery. 

Avon was in love with him. 

Even after a night of sifting through it, Blake still found it difficult to fathom. 

He had spent the night analyzing memories -- things Avon had said, things he had done -- looking for some clue he might have picked up. Putting it all together, he realized that there had been many clues. Why hadn't he seen it before? No one had defenses that thick unless there was something vulnerable to protect. And Avon's defenses were at their strongest with Blake. He was the one to receive the brunt on Avon's hostility. He saw now that it was because he had the most power over Avon -- the most power to hurt him. And, he realized, he often had hurt him. He had hurt him that very night, in fact, with a song.

Avon made his way noiselessly through the camp and sat upon his bedroll, removing his boots. Blake watched through half-closed eyes, as Avon stretched out on top of his blankets. Blake took a deep breath. He was going to have to find a way of dealing with this. The problem was that he quite honestly had no idea what to do. At least he no longer needed to worry that Avon would leave. The declaration Avon had made last night had not been an easy one. There was no doubt in Blake's mind that it was an immutable commitment. 

He discovered that he was profoundly relieved by that fact. From the first time they had met, Blake had lived with worries that at any time Avon might abandon him. He had feared that abandonment -- he had lost too many people. He did not want to lose this one. For the first time, he admitted that he wanted Avon to stay not only for the Cause, but for his own reasons. That's why he had pushed Avon so hard -- he had wanted a commitment from the man. Now that he had one, he was at a loss.

Avon's threats to leave him had distressed Blake for nearly two years now. Avon had more power than anyone to hurt him, as well. He had realized that when Avon had walked away from the fire. It was something else he hadn't been willing to admit before -- even to himself. 

He further realized that he had not been particularly self-aware these last years. Federation programming had certainly contributed to that, but, in part, at least, he had done it to himself. He had focused virtually all of his energy upon his Cause, and tried to minimize the importance of his personal life. Not that his Cause wasn't justified, he reminded himself, but there might just be more to it than that. He didn't know. His mind was still whirling. He needed time to think. As quietly as possible, he left his bed and slipped away from the camp. Perhaps a day alone in the wilderness would give him some perspective.

* * *

Blake found himself enjoying the warm summer morning, as the stream he was following took him northward. The sights, sounds, and smells of nature still exhilarated him -- he had, after all, spent much of his life either in the dome on Earth, or on a spaceship. He had had so few opportunities in his life to be outdoors for just the simple pleasure of it.

He had come upon the stream about thirty minutes after leaving the camp, and had decided to follow it for no better reason than that he wanted to. In the clear, fast-moving waters, he could see glints of silver, as the sun was reflected from the abundance of fish. He strolled along casually, often stopping to watch a small animal going about its business, or to sniff some bright flowers he had come upon, or to simply sit and enjoy a particularly lovely view. Even at this pace, though, he had already covered miles. As the morning wore on, he could almost feel the tension draining from his body. For the first time in a long time, there was no one chasing him, no dangerous missions to undertake, no one else to be responsible for. It was glorious. It was freedom. It was the way life should be -- would be, once the Federation had been destroyed. 

Blake sat upon a large rock, dangling his bare feet in the cool water. He found himself wishing that Avon were here to share this bliss. He was a little surprised at himself. It was ridiculous, really. Avon did not seem the "back to nature" type. Blake couldn't quite imagine the computer tech finding as much pleasure in this paradise as he did. Nonetheless, he desired to share this small happiness with the man -- to spend some relaxed, peaceful time in his company. He sighed. This brought to mind the reason for his journey. What was he going to do about Avon?

Blake lay back on the warm rock, his arms behind his head, and he closed his eyes. He reflected upon the strangeness of a world where having someone love him was to be considered a problem. Was it one, though? He cared for Avon -- a lot, if he were to be honest with himself. 

He had always been willing to admit that he cared for his crew, as a group, in general. He cared for many things and many people, in general. He had seemed to shy away, however, from caring for any one person in particular. He now recognized that he did care for Avon, though. Very much. So much, in fact, that he was amazed that he had been able to ignore these feelings up to now. Blake knew now that many of his actions had been prompted by his need to keep Avon with him.

Perhaps the only real difference between his own feelings and Avon's was that Avon had been pushed into acknowledging them -- to himself first, and then to Blake. Avon had had time to define his feelings, and to wrestle with his passions. For Blake, the journey had just begun. At least he wouldn't have to go it alone. Blake made one firm resolution. He would not hurt Avon again. He would let him know that he cared. He would do what he could to make Avon happy. For a moment, he reflected upon precisely what that would entail. He smiled. Who knows, Avon just might make him happy, too.

The warmth of the sun and his wakeful night worked upon him, and he felt sleep tugging softly at his mind. He couldn't seem to resist its lure. With a hint of a smile still on his lips, he drifted peacefully away.

* * *

Avon was beginning to grow a bit worried. What had begun as a slight discomfort at Blake's absence had grown until he couldn't banish it from the forefront of his thoughts. He bitterly reflected that the man manipulated him even when he wasn't there. It was getting to be late afternoon, and there had been no sign of Blake since he had made his surreptitious departure at dawn. Avon was perfectly aware that his anxiety was pointless -- even Blake couldn't have found trouble on this harmonious, unpopulated planet. Yet, the nagging doubt remained. 

He was determined to suppress the desire to begin searching for him. After what had taken place the night before, the last thing he was willing to do was to go chasing after Blake. It would be pathetic. He would not accept that humiliation. Nonetheless, he found himself glancing every few minutes in the direction Blake had gone. 

Avon had, of course, been awake, and had watched him go. He wondered, vaguely, if Blake was aware that he had been gone all night. Probably, he conceded. Blake kept track of all of his followers. Yes, he had finally admitted it. He, too, was one of Blake's followers -- perhaps more pitiable than any of the others, because he didn't give a hang about the Cause, only about the man. 

Avon glanced at Blake's route once again. He sighed. Was he to be left no self-respect at all? He frowned and headed into the woods. 

At Avon's quick pace, he covered the distance Blake had traveled in a fraction of the time. The trail along the stream was easy to follow. As he walked, he berated himself. He had so often called Vila a fool, but even Vila would not have allowed himself to become so controlled by a hopeless obsession. 

Avon had been in love only once before, but it hadn't been like this. His feelings for Anna had run very deep. She somehow touched things in him that he hadn't known existed. He had meant it when he'd told Del that he would have given his life to save her. It still hurt him that he hadn't been able to. Even with Anna, though, Avon hadn't descended to this level of lovesick stupidity.

It had begun almost from the moment he met Blake. The man had swept into his life and had taken over. Avon had fought with all of his strength, but his defenses had finally succumbed to that overwhelming magnetism. Now he was nearly helpless to resist. Worse, Blake seemed to want him that way. He pushed and prodded and manipulated until Avon had finally, last night, blurted out his feelings -- well, some of them anyway. It didn't really matter, he knew. Blake must have long known how successful his campaign had been. Why he recently seemed determined to make Avon verbalize his weaknesses was a mystery. 

Perhaps the best thing would be to simply get it over with -- let go the flood of sentimentality, and tell Blake every ridiculous feeling and hope and need that he had. Perhaps, then, Blake would back off a little, although he doubted it. Blake's need to humiliate him was the one thing Avon didn't understand.

At last he came upon the object of his search. He couldn't help but smile ruefully at his own ridiculousness. Thirty feet down the bank, Blake lay asleep. That was the extent of the mortal danger he faced. Avon shook his head. In spite of the annoyance he felt at himself, he couldn't stop the warm sensation that swept over him at the sight of Blake lying so relaxed in the sunshine. He was once again caught in the grip of the deep longing that would never be fulfilled -- the passion that would remain forever frustrated. It was a kind of sweet torture. Instead of doing the sensible thing -- returning to the campsite, with Blake none the wiser -- Avon was drawn closer, until he stood only feet away, gazing down at the man who had so complicated his life.

As a shadow fell across his face, Blake opened his eyes. Avon steeled himself against the triumphant look and condescending comment that he was certain would come. Instead, though, he received only a warm smile. Blake seemed genuinely glad to see him.

They simply looked at each other for a few moments. Blake was determined to keep his resolution not to hurt his friend again. Sitting up, he simply said, "Isn't it wonderful here? I think I could stay here forever."

"Forever is a long time," Avon replied softly, "and the planet is unpopulated. What would you do without any dragons to slay?"

Blake chuckled, "I don't know, but I actually believe I could get used to it. Don't you think this would make a good home?"

"Home? As if you would ever leave your precious rebellion."

"Yes, you're right. But someday, when it's all over, I just might come back here."

"Do you really think you could be happy here alone?"

"I wouldn't be alone. You'd be with me." He held Avon's eyes. "You did promise never to leave me. If I came back here, you'd come, too, wouldn't you?"

Avon managed to drag his eyes away. Oh god, he thought, what kind of game was this? "Of course," was his only reply.

"Good, because I couldn't stand to lose you, Avon." Blake reached out and took his hand. "You're too important to me."

Avon looked up sharply, meeting the gentle, serious eyes. The invitation was plain. This time he could only manage to swallow. He was trembling. Avon squeezed his eyes shut. This could not be happening.

"Avon," Blake said, tightening his grip.

He wasn't going to make Avon take the initiative. After a moment, he stood, still clinging to the trembling hand. They were so close that Blake was surprised when Avon didn't take a step back. He felt a twinge in his groin as he slid his free arm around Avon's back, and pulled their bodies together. Avon gasped. 

Very slowly, Blake moved in and brushed Avon's lips gently with his own. For a moment, Avon just stood, frozen in shock. As Blake's mouth settled upon him more firmly, however, he found himself helplessly responding. Pulling his hand free, he wrapped both arms tightly around Blake's strong back. He moaned as he plunged his tongue into Blake's mouth, pouring all of his emotions into the sweet communion. Blake surrendered immediately to Avon's dominance, nearly overcome by the pleasurable sensations that tore through his responsive body.

Avon slid a hand up into Blake's hair, holding him in the kiss. They clung together with increasing intensity, a heat rising within each of them. When at last they parted, both were breathless. 

Looking into Blake's eyes, Avon opened his mouth to say -- something -- he found no words. Panting, Blake simply smiled at him and urgently kissed him again. Avon was lost at once. His mouth strayed down Blake's neck. Blake stretched back his head, allowing him free access. As he licked and nibbled, Avon's hands moved around and began unbuttoning Blake's shirt. Blake moaned deeply as the warm hands caressed his chest, his breath now coming in short gasps. Avon wasn't sure which excited him more -- the fact that he was at last touching the man he had longed for with such painful desperation, or the way Blake that was responding to that touch. 

Avon pushed Blake's shirt from his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. He guided Blake backwards until they came to a patch of soft moss. They collapsed to the ground, Avon stretching full length on top of Blake. 

Blake was rather sure that he had never been ravished before. He found that he quite liked it. Avon's intensity thrilled him, as his hands and mouth feverishly explored Blake's straining body. Small moans escaped him that he wouldn't have silenced, even had he been able to. Each moan sent a shudder through Avon, increasing his own sense of urgency.

Blake's hands moved up Avon's back, over his shoulders, and down his chest. His frustration was mounting. Giving up, he realized he'd have to ask. "Avon," he rasped.

Avon didn't interrupt his exploration of Blake's left ear. "Mmm?"

"Precisely how am I meant to extricate you from this tunic?"

Avon paused for about one second, and then rolled off his partner as they both burst into uncontrollable laughter. They lay side by side on the mossy ground for several minutes, swept away.

When the bout passed at last, Avon found his voice. "Why did you wait so long, if this is what you wanted?"

"I didn't realize until today that it was what I wanted. I've haven't been terribly aware of my feelings, I'm afraid. I was always so worried that you would leave, that I never let myself look any deeper. It wasn't until last night, when I finally realized how you felt, that I started thinking about it, and discovered that I felt the same way."

Avon's eyes grew wide, "You didn't know how I felt until last night? And here I thought I'd been making a spectacle of myself."

"Hardly," he smiled, caressing Avon's cheek. "Though, looking back, I am amazed that I didn't see it. Even last night, Vila had to point it out to me." He paused, growing serious. "I know I've hurt you, Avon. I hope you can forgive me."

"It isn't important anymore," he said, reaching out to Blake, and pulling the man to him. He slowly guided Blake's hands to the tunic's hidden fastenings and, in moments, Avon was "extricated."

Blake began his own exploration of the smooth hot skin, thrilled by its taste and texture. He fought to control his rising excitement, taking it slowly, savoring every moment. With his hands and his mouth, he explored the contours of Avon's body -- his heaving chest, his strong neck, his angular face. 

Avon was responding helplessly to Blake's attentions, which he found frighteningly passionate. So often, Avon had imagined moments like this, but the reality surpassed even his vivid imagination. He slid his hands down Blake's back to his buttocks, and pulled him tight against him, arching upwards at the same time and moaning softly. He didn't think he could wait much longer. 

Blake pulled back to meet Avon's eyes. Both of them were panting heavily. He brushed Avon's sweaty bangs back from his forehead, and gently kissed his eyes, his cheeks, finally meeting his mouth in a slow, deep, tender kiss. He wanted Avon to know how precious he was to him. 

Avon was overwhelmed. A single tear escaped his eye. Blake kissed it away, and caressed Avon's face once more. He looked deeply into the dark eyes. "I love you," he whispered, realizing that it was true even as he said the words.

Avon slid his hand into Blake's curls, pulling him into another long, tender kiss. After a few moments, though, the tenderness transformed itself into need, as their mutual desire grew again. 

Avon rolled on top of Blake once more, fumbling with the other man's trousers. He sat back a moment to pull them down and toss them aside. When he saw the eager erection awaiting him, he glanced up at Blake's face. Their eyes locked. Avon swallowed hard, unable to speak. Part of him still couldn't quite believe this. For so long, it had been only a dream -- a frustratingly impossible dream. 

He removed his own trousers, and stretched full length upon his partner once again. The sensations of hot flesh meeting hot flesh sent shudders of pleasure through both of them. This time, their kiss was urgent and savage. When their eyes met again, each saw the mirror of his own desire in the eyes of his lover. Avon stroked Blake's curls for a moment, and then moved down the length of his body to the anxious penis awaiting him. 

Closing his eyes, Avon took a moment to gather together his wildly out-of-control emotions. He rubbed his cheek against the hard shaft, breathing deeply the musky smell that was intimately Blake. He sighed. Slowly, he kissed his way up its length, as Blake moaned and writhed beneath him. He ran his tongue around the sensitive tip until Blake gasped out, "Please, Avon. . . please." 

Avon couldn't refuse. He took Blake in his mouth and sucked hard. Blake cried out, arching upwards and clutching fists full of moss. Avon quickly settled to a rhythm, on and on, until suddenly Blake thrust and Avon was rewarded with a hot burst of fluid. Again and again, Blake's hips lunged upward, and he cried out in ecstasy with each thrust. When the waves of orgasm had finally passed, Blake lapsed to a shuddering, quivering, gasping mass. 

Avon didn't move. He lay breathing heavily, his face buried in the sweaty, kinky hair of Blake's crotch. Blake looked down at Avon in awe. At last he could speak. "I never understood what love was, until now. Gods, Avon -- I never even imagined it could be like that. You're amazing."

Avon looked up. He smiled a smile of pure joy. Blake's wonder increased -- he had never seen such a look on the other man's face. He felt tears well in his own eyes as he realized that he was the cause. 

Avon moved up and met Blake face to face. His eyes were tender and smoldering. Seeing the look, Blake swallowed hard. "I love you," he whispered for the second time. He stroked Avon's cheek. 

Avon closed his eyes and turned his face to the caress. He gently kissed Blake's cheek, making his way down to an ear, which he slowly licked and then blew on, sending yet another shudder through his partner. Quietly he breathed into the ear, "I think that I shall never tire of hearing you say that." He paused a moment, then nibbled at the lobe. "I loved you the moment I saw you, Blake. And every moment since."

Blake arms tightened around Avon's back, and he rolled them both over so that he now lay on top of his friend's excited body. He wanted to give Avon what he had received from him. He was not sure he could find the patience within himself to go slowly.

He looked down possessively at the other man. Avon was gazing directly into Blake's eyes with absolute trust. A flicker of amazement crossed his mind. He and Kerr Avon were lovers. 

* * *

Blake's eyes focused on the familiar surroundings of his own cabin as he roused himself from the drowsy half-slumber he had been enjoying. He gazed affectionately at the man sleeping in his arms. He couldn't count the number of times the two of them had made love in the last six days. He stopped himself. That wasn't true. They had made love twenty-three times, and he remembered every moment of every time. 

He reached out and traced Avon's sensous lips with his finger, amazed at the depth of feeling that swelled within him at the simple gesture. Avon shifted slightly against him, and Blake could not resist the lure of those lips. He drew closer, and softly, gently took possession of Avon's warm mouth with his own. In a moment, Avon's arms tightened around Blake, and he moaned as sleep fled him. The tech pulled Blake over him, and deepened the kiss passionately. 

Both men gave themselves over to the now-familiar sensations of the tempest that raged between them, swept away in the mingling torrents of love and lust that grew stronger each time they touched. 

So caught up in their passion, both of them failed to hear the intercom chime until at least the third time, when Jenna's desperate voice cut though, "Blake, get up here!"

The lovers disentangled themselves and Blake lunged for the intercom button. "What is it, Jenna?" he asked urgently.

"Pursuit ships -- six of them. They are trying to surround us." The ship rocked as a plasma bolt struck her.

"On my way," he answered, already out of bed and pulling on his trousers. He grabbed a shirt and bolted out the door, Avon only a step behind him.

They skidded onto the flight deck to find their crewmates frantically engaged in battle. They were boxed in and, though they had destroyed one ship and badly crippled another, they were still outnumbered. 

"Where did they come from, Jenna?" Blake shouted, taking in the situation as displayed on the main viewer.

"I don't know. They seemed to come out of nowhere. They must have some new kind of anti-detection device."

"Orac, jam their communications," Avon ordered from his station.

The computer's answer of "Very well," was almost lost in the din as a second plasma bolt struck the Liberator's shields. 

"Avon?" Blake asked without turning his eyes from the viewer.

"Energy bank one is almost depleted, but the others are still at full power. We should be able to hold out for quite a while, as long as they don't hit us in the same spot three or more times. The problem is that they seem to know that. That bolt struck very near the first one. We may be able to take one more hit like that, Blake, but not two."

Vila fired, blasting another ship to space rubble. He spared a moment to smile, before setting sights on the next vessel. 

"Nice shooting, Vila," Blake complimented him, coming to his side. "We may get out of this yet. Go for that one," he instructed, pointing at the viewer. "We may get a hole big enough to bolt through."

Vila took careful aim at the target but, before he was able to fire, another blast shook the Liberator, knocking Vila from his flight chair. He scrambled to his feet, and began working rapidly to bring the designated pursuit ship into his sights once again.

Avon shouted a warning, "Blake, we cannot take another hit in that section. The shields will not hold. We will be destroyed."

"Come on, Vila. Come on." Blake urged.

At last, Vila fired, destroying the target vessel entirely.

Blake spun around. "Go Jenna!"

"You don't have to tell me twice," she replied, as she took the Liberator to Standard   
by 8. 

"Zen, how long before we're out of range?"

+The Liberator will be out of detector range of the two remaining pursuit ships in six point nine minutes.+

Blake heaved a sigh, and the rest of the crew relaxed in their chairs. 

"I thought we'd had it that time," Jenna commented.

"It was too close," Blake agreed. "Orac, find out how they managed to sneak up on us like that." He rubbed his eyes with both hands. Then he looked up to the others. "We make a good team. That's what saved us. If this had happened a week ago, when we were all tired and over-stressed, we would have been dead." He paused. "Cally, remind me of this the next time you try to tell me that we need a holiday."

"Yes, I will," Cally smiled at him. 

Blake collapsed heavily on the flight couch. Avon left his station and sat down next to the rebel leader, gazing at him with a faint smile. Blake smiled openly back at him. Jenna and Cally were a little surprised at the uncharacteristic ease between the two men. 

Vila smiled to himself. He was not surprised.

The crew had not seen much of either man since returning from their vacation. In fact, apart from their shifts on the flight deck, the rebel and the genius had not been seen at all. The others had noticed an air of contentment that was new. In fact, there was a relaxed sense about the ship that there had never been before. Both women had speculated individually as to the cause, but had not even come close. Vila was fairly confident that he knew the reason.

When Zen announced that they were, at last, out of detector range, the crew left their stations to join Blake and Avon on the curved couch. They noticed for the first time the state of disaray the two men were in. Blake's voluminous shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open, Avon's dark tunic was zipped up properly, but his always-perfect hair was carelessly mussed. Neither man was wearing shoes. 

Blake noticed the curious eyes studying them, and turned to look at Avon. The tech met his eyes with a look of innocent amusement, obviously leaving the next move in Blake's hands. The rebel chose to avoid lengthy explanations. 

He rose. "Well, let me know what Orac finds out. I'm going back to bed. Coming, Avon?"

"Right behind you," the tech replied crisply, also rising.

They exited, leaving two utterly stunned women behind. 

Vila simply smiled happily.


End file.
